I had never looked at the moon before
with tears and questions.
Grieving time seeking refuge
in the center of anger.
For this will to live
I cling to comfort
looking at the beautiful figure.
I ride my unhappiness
and I think
I hear answers.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
